


we can follow the sparks

by quakeriders



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Best Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Porn Watching, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22243528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quakeriders/pseuds/quakeriders
Summary: He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Friday night. They had been at Rita’s, celebrating the end of a particularly gruelling week. By drinking lots and lots of alcohol. Some may argue that it had been too much alcohol.It had led to the best and simultaneously worst moment of his life.or: 69th acotar fic celebration. in which feyre and rhys are best friends but after feyre's hand slips, things change.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 58
Kudos: 232





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oooh boy, this was supposed to be 4k max. but it kept growing and growing and we're now at 6k and I am forced to split this into parts.
> 
> but thank you so much for the support and love over the last year. this fic is only happening because we've come so far. (69th acotar fic posted on this website, can you believe? and only one of them isn't feysand, lmao)
> 
> thank you!
> 
> \--
> 
> title inspo: taylor swift - i think he knows

_**Rhysand** _

Rhys was trying to finish his paper. He really was. There was about one fifth of the work left but whenever he tried to get back into work, his useless mind drifted off.

He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Friday night. They had been at Rita’s, celebrating the end of a particularly gruelling week. By drinking lots and lots of alcohol. Some may argue that it had been too much alcohol.

It had led to the best and simultaneously worst moment of his life.

Feyre, his best friend since freshman year, had been sitting right beside him in the booth, her smaller frame pressed close to his as she giggled and drowned shot after shot. She had been warm and soft, so fucking soft, and then she laid a hand on his thigh to steady herself.

The touch had sent his already high strung body into overdrive. He felt himself growing hard and there had been no way to hide it in his dark jeans. And while he had been praying that Feyre was either too drunk to notice or the lights in the bar too dim, her hand had slipped up and brushed against his hard dick.

She hadn’t moved away at once. Hadn’t recoiled and looked at him with disgust. No, she simply had blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed either from the alcohol or the knowledge that she was touching his erection. And still, she hadn’t pulled away. Instead, she had moved her fingers again, softly, carefully, a barely there graze down his length. But when a soft groan had escaped his lips and he had twitched under her caress, she had snatched her hand away.

And for the rest of the night, she had avoided looking him in the eye. Or maybe she hadn’t, but he certainly had.

But despite that, despite the sick, anxious feeling in his stomach, he couldn’t put that caress out of his mind. He had been half-hard all weekend, thinking about it. About the way she had moved her fingers over him, almost like she wanted to explore. Had his reaction scared her away? Or had it just reminded her drunk mind that it was her best friend’s dick she was touching.

Either way, Rhys hated himself both for still being turned on by it and for the images his mind kept conjuring up.

He hadn’t gotten off to them. Hadn’t gotten off all weekend. Not because he didn’t need or want to or couldn’t, but because it felt wrong now to think of Feyre while jacking off. He had done it a couple times before, he never planned it, but she had just crept into his mind and the mental image of her bright eyes, full lips and the freckles on her nose and chest had made him come so hard each time.

And now, despite his best efforts, he remembered the sight of Feyre in her red two piece bathing suit she had worn to a pool party last month. She was thin, had always been a little too thin, but that was the first time he had noticed her curves. Her breasts were perfect, they would fit right into his palm and from their many, many hugs he knew they were tight and soft and perfect. He couldn’t help but imagine his hands on them, kneading softly until her nipples grew hard under his touch. How he would flick his thumb over them, how she would groan as he did so. He would press his mouth on one, rolling the other between two fingers. She would moan and arch her back, demanding more, impatient like she was with all things in life.

Rhys cursed, opening his eyes and seeing his essay on the screen. He was painfully hard - again. He had needed to take a cold shower to get himself together each time this weekend. But maybe, maybe he just needed to come. Just once. Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system.

Some small part of him knew that there was no way he could get Feyre out of his system, not when the last six months had been a rollercoaster of thoughts and wants and butterflies in his stomach at the sight of her, but this need was something else. It was sharp and demanding and overpowering all of his senses. By touching him like that, Feyre had somehow shifted the feelings he had been trying to suppress into overdrive.

He just needed to come.

But that small part of his mind was strong enough to draw the line at jacking off to thoughts of Feyre. At least at this moment. So, he compromised and opened a new tab.

He had never really liked porn. As a teenager, it had been a means to an end. But he never really appreciated the way women were tossed around and used like dolls. It brought him no real pleasure watching half a dozen men jacking off to a woman with tears and mascara and other bodily fluids running down her cheeks.

But he found something homemade and exactly what he needed right now. He plugged in his headphones and slipped them on. The couple on screen where in a messy bedroom, both of them naked, making out with soft groans and greedy hands.

Slowly, Rhys unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his zipper. As he grasped himself, already hard and throbbing, he let out a soft hiss. The man on screen pushed the woman down onto her back but instead of spreading her legs and fucking her, he slid down her body.

She moaned throatily, but her voice was too high to do it for him. Her legs were pushed up and then the angle of the camera changed. A close up that had caught his attention in the thumbnail. She was pink and swollen and then a tongue licked up her center.

Rhys’ fingers tightened on his dick and slowly he began stroking up and down his length. She twisted and arched her back, whining as the tongue flicked over her clit. Slowly, she got wetter and wetter and the sounds of him lapping up the fluid and pressing his tongue into her opening made Rhys’ head fall back and his eyes fall shut.

He was working on himself in earnest know. The headphones tight over his ears, he could hear the sounds of him eating her out and her unending moans as she got closer and closer to her climax. His own dick was throbbing relentlessly now. He kept moving his hand, spreading the wetness that had leaked from his tip to make the motions smoother, but despite his dick throbbing, his heart racing, he knew he couldn’t come like this.

Something- _something_ was missing.

And then he let his mind wander. Even with the sounds of the couple in his ears, he conjured up the image of Feyre on his bed, her legs spread and her cheeks flushed. Her full lips red and swollen from kissing him, her pupils blown wide and her nipples hard and begging to be licked.

_He was towering over her, her legs wrapped around his waist. And he was sliding his dick between her folds, feeling the wetness and how fucking soft every part of her was. She let out whining sounds each time the head of his dick met her clit._

_Rhys wanted so badly to slide into her, but he was savoring the moment, the anticipation building with each rock forward._

_“Please,” Feyre whispered, her voice broken and needy. “Rhys, please.”_

_His restrained snapped and Rhys slipped into her, slowly, feeling her stretch to accommodate him. She was so soft, so silky and so warm around him. He kept pushing and pushing until he bottomed out and her walls fluttered around his dick._ His grip tightened and he jerked himself harder, faster, groaning as he imagined Feyre arching her back under him.

_Feyre’s eyes fell shut, but her mouth was open, moans and unintelligible words slipping out. He heard her demand him to go faster, harder and he did. His hands fisting in the sheets on either side of her face, he leaned over her. Her hips rolled against his as he began to pound into her, hard and deep. She gasped each time he pushed into her. With the way he was positioned, Rhys could easily fall into her with each stroke and her legs fell wide open on either side of him._

When she lifted her arms, Rhys wondered what the real Feyre would do. Would she slide her hands into his hair and tug on it? Would she hold onto his shoulders? Or would she run those sharp nails down his back, marking him as hers? The thought made him groan and he felt himself getting impossibly harder.

_He could feel the burning down his back, even as she dragged her nails back up and down again. He knew he would be marked for days after this and he wanted to return the kindness. So, Rhys moved his body down to hers, he remained inside her and began rolling his hips in slow, controlled motions. Feyre groaned, her legs wrapping around his waist once again and pushing him even deeper. Putting most of his weight onto his elbows, Rhys looked at the smooth expanse of skin right beneath him._

_Her chest was flushed a delightful shade of pink. The freckles that ran all the way down her torso, set aflame by it. He wanted to kiss each and everyone of them. But he wanted to mark her more. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. So soft, so full. She responded immediately. Her tongue darted out, seeking his._

_Always so demanding._

_He smiled to himself, even as he broke the kiss and delighted in the sound Feyre made. One hand wrapped around the back of his neck, while the other slid into his hair. But before she could start pulling him back up, his lips dropped to her neck._

_He pressed a soft kiss right over her pulse point, then sucked at the skin until she was tugging at his hair and moaning. He stopped, moving down because he knew that she wouldn’t be happy about love bites that were this visible._

_Rhys kissed his way down to her collar bones, pausing to pay special attention to a few of the freckles he had admired earlier. But when his teeth scraped at the skin stretching over her collarbones, Feyre arched under him and her hands slid to his back once more._

_He kissed and nipped at the same spot, until he felt the blood rising up. He sucked along the bone, creating more and more buds that would look like a necklace adoring her chest and smiled at his work. And as if she knew exactly what he had been doing, when he began thrusting into her faster once more, her nails dug in deeper and ran all the way from his neck to his ass._

Rhys was going to come. He was going to come any second now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for commenting and leaving kudos. here's the second part. enjoy!

_**Feyre** _

Feyre kept looking at the door. Her hands were sweaty and her stomach felt like it was in knots. But she needed to go inside. How had she forgotten to pack up her notes after their study session on Thursday? Cursing herself and her drunken decision to grope the best friend she ever had, she knocked on his door.

Nothing. There was no sound, no movement behind the door.

He should be home right now. She knew his class schedule just as well as her own. He was her best friend, he had been her best friend ever since freshman orientation. She couldn’t loose him. Not because of her silly crush or her wandering hands.

For what felt like the millionth time since Friday night, Feyre remembered the feel of him. How she had lost her balance and her hand had slipped. Her whole body - her whole being - had frozen at the feeling of him being hard under her fingers.

And then, she had been lurched right back into movement. Her thoughts blindingly fast. He was hard.  _ He was hard. _ Was it because they had been sitting so close? Was it because he had been wanting her as much as she wanted him? Or was it because someone on the crowded dance floor had caught his eyes? But even as all those thoughts swirled in her mind, her stupid fingers had moved without her permission.

And when he had twitched under that touch, she had remembered that it had been without his permission, too.

She had just groped him under the table like some asshole, like him being hard gave her the right to touch him. He hadn’t pulled away, but he hadn’t looked at her for the rest of the night either.

Feyre knocked again. She would apologize and if he didn’t accept the apology, she would offer to stay out of his life for good. Even if that would probably kill her.

She needed her notes back. Or she would fail the exam. She wasn’t sure how she could care about that, when the healthiest relationship she ever had was about to be ended.

The door remained shut. Maybe he had gone out. Feeling like the worst person, Feyre slipped her set of keys from her bag and used the spare key, Rhys had given her, to unlock the door. The apartment was pristine as always. She spotted a single bowl in the sink but other than that, the living room and small kitchenette were clean and so,  _ so _ familiar.

With a deep ache in her heart, thinking this might be the last time she would be here, Feyre made her way to the bedroom on the other side of the room. The door was closed, unusual because when Rhys wasn’t home, he always left it open.

Still, she knew that her notes would be neatly stacked on his desk, probably right next to his.

She opened the door and just like on Friday night, she froze.

Rhys was sitting at his desk, headphones on, his head thrown back, eyes shut tightly and lips parted. But what made her freeze was the hand that was wrapped around his dick. His very, very hard and leaking dick.

Her mouth went dry at the sight. At the way his hand expertly moved up and down his own length, his grip tight. She should look away, she should turn around and run but the sight of him was overwhelming.

She couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from the tip, the brown of his skin tinted with a dark red, that told her he was about to come. The thought made something hot pool low in her gut. She felt her breathing turn ragged even as her heartbeat quickened and her grip on the handle slackened.

In an effort to gather her wits, she lifted her eyes and noticed the screen of his laptop. He was watching porn. And as she took in the scene playing out, that hotness moved down until she felt herself grow wet.

Rhys was watching a guy eat a girl out. She couldn’t hear the sounds, because of the headphones, but she could see how wet the girl was, fluid leaking from her as he kept pushing his tongue into her.

She needed to get out of here. Needed to leave before she did something stupid, like get on her knees and take him into her mouth. Or stop his hands with her own and jerk him off until he came all over her fingers. For a brief moment, she wondered how his cum would taste. Would it be like his smell? Like the sea with an undercurrent of jasmine? But she shook herself mentally, it would taste like  _ cum _ . Salty and musky. And then she shook herself again. Why was she thinking that? She had promised herself not to think about him like that.

She groped for the door handle, fully indenting on slipping away without him noticing and sending him a text about the notes, but she was so clumsy, so distracted that she missed the handle not once but twice.

Just as her fingers wrapped around the cool metal, Rhys’ eyes flickered open, a small groan coming from him.

And then, he noticed the movement at the door.

It felt like his head turned to her in slow motion. Time slowing down and her heartbeat with it.

When his eyes found her, he let out a broken moan and she watched as his fingers tightened their grip around himself. For a moment, she thought he would let go, that he would fix himself up and ask her what the hell she was doing here, but he just looked at her, breathing hard and holding onto his throbbing length with a crushing grip.

Feyre felt like his gaze was trapping her in place, and as she met his eyes, she felt herself flush. Not just her face, but her whole body. A small throbbing, aching need made her bite her bottom lip and and watched as his dick twitched in his hand.

She wanted to touch him so badly it felt like a physical pain. And she wanted him to touch her. Wanted those strong hands, those long fingers to slide all over her body.

Feyre’s gaze had once again dropped down and she forced herself to look back into his eyes. Those dark blue eyes. They were burning her. She exhaled shakily and as if he had commanded her, she took a tentative step into the room.

His eyes followed her, his lips parting even more and he let out a soft breath, that might have been a sigh of relief or her name. She couldn’t tell.

But at the sight of him like that, Feyre’s steps became more assured. She stopped right by him, her leg brushing against his and Rhys had to tilt his head back to keep looking at her. Gently Feyre removed his headphones, placing them on the desk.

“Feyre,” He whispered, low and throaty.

She thought she had never heard her name sound better. She wanted to touch him. With immense difficulty, she said, “I’m sorry, I should go-”

His eyes widened, the haze clearing away. And then he said, in that same low voice, “No. Please, don’t.”

She looked at him, looked and looked and looked. And she wondered if maybe he wanted to touch her as much as she wanted to touch him. Again, she imagined how she could kneel before him and finish what he had started. She swallowed hard.

It seemed as though Rhys had forgotten that his jeans were undone. That his dick was hard and his hand wrapped around it. Or that the faint noises of sex could be heard through the now discarded headphones.

Or, he simply didn’t care.

“What do you want me to do instead?” Feyre asked, her voice so unlike how she usually sounded. Her throat was raw and her mouth was dry. She couldn’t help it.

He blinked, his eyes dropping to the screen right in front of him. Feyre tore herself away to look at it, too. Only to find that the guy was still eating the girl out. His mouth wrapped around her clit, two fingers moving in and out of her so fast the wet sounds were louder than the girl’s moaning. Even from the muffled headphones.

As they watched, the girl broke and broke and broke under this touch. Feyre pressed her legs together. She felt wetness dripping onto her underwear and tried not to let out a groan herself. She wanted Rhys to touch her like that.

But the longer she watched - the guy had removed his fingers, but his tongue now teased at her entrance once more - she just desperately needed friction against her own clit.

She leaned forward, unplugging the headphones and at once, the sound of panting breaths filled the room. Rhys didn’t move and when Feyre looked at him, she found his eyes on her. Not her face, but roaming all over her body as if he couldn’t stop and needed to look at everything at once.

Which was ridiculous because Feyre was wearing a baggy, old, and paint-stained t-shirt that was tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans.

“Don’t go.” He said again and almost as if to test her, his hand began moving again, slowly, so slowly that Feyre knew he was barely holding himself together.

She watched him for a moment, and then she made a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, I really want to know how you guys feel about this fic? please leave a comment!! I really enjoyed writing this but I feel like at this point I'm just indulging my weird brain and this is just excessive..
> 
> let me know what you think pls <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all your lovely comments, i'm truly blown away by them
> 
> i'm also sorry for not uploading yesterday, but i was so exhausted i wasn't even able to reply to your comments. i hope you enjoy this next part!

_**Rhysand** _

His mind was going round and round in circles. What was he doing? Why was he doing this? He shouldn’t be doing this. Any second now, that surprised expression on her face would melt away and she would either run without another word to him or she would slap him across the face.

It’s what he deserved.

Yes, she had come into his room without announcing herself, but he was the asshole who still had his dick out and throbbing at the sight of her. He was the asshole, who instead of zipping himself back up, had started to slowly jerk himself off again.

He was too turned on, the Feyre in his mind and the one before him blending into one being. He wasn’t so far gone that he would try to touch her, to even dream about doing the things to her that he had been doing to the Feyre in his mind.

He wasn’t so far gone that he would ruin their friendship further by reaching out and touching her like he craved. And even as he noticed the flush on her cheeks or the way she was rubbing her thighs together. Her body reacting to finding him jerking off to porn meant nothing.

Feyre had always been quick to blush. It meant nothing.

But when she didn’t leave, when she came closer and took his headphones off, did that mean something? Because when she said she should go, he couldn’t stand the thought. He wanted her here, because now that she was in front of him, the Feyre in his mind and the moans from his laptop were infinitely inferior.

He could smell her, feel the warmth of her body. Their legs were brushing and even through the layers of fabric, Rhys felt shocks of pleasure run through him.

The real Feyre was better than anything, even when she wasn’t touching him, even when she just looked at him with those grey-blue eyes, her lips parted in surprise.

And when he had asked - no, _begged_ \- her to stay, he couldn’t breathe as he waited for her answer.

Finally, she moved. Rhys watched as Feyre stepped away from him. Not towards the door, but the foot of his bed just two steps away. He turned his chair around to keep watching her and stopped moving when she sat at the edge of the bed and cocked her head at him in question.

“Now what, Rhys?” Her voice was breathless, but he recognized the attempt to make it sound sarcastic. Her failure to do so was what actually gave him the courage to speak the next words.

“We’re watching porn, Feyre.” He said, realizing he was just as breathless. “What do you usually do when you do that?”

Her eyes flicked to the screen, then down to where his hand had once again stopped moving. At any other time, he might have gotten soft at the lack of friction but it seemed like his erection was here to stay. As if as long as Feyre was close, it would remain. And if he eased his tight hold, he might come without moving at all.

He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood when Feyre’s small hands moved to unbutton her pants. Maybe he would come even with the vice like grip he had on himself.

“Why did you stop?” She whispered, even as she popped open the button and pulled her zipper down. He started moving his hand again, half turned away from the screen but the sight before him was the only thing he wanted to see, hear, smell, feel for the rest of his life.

She lifted her hips off the mattress, the movement so like what he had imagined and his fingers tightened on him to the point of pain. He was going to come, he was going to lose it before she even touched herself.

“Rhys.”

His eyes shot open and only then did he realize that he had shut them tightly. Feyre gave him a soft smile, something that made him feel warm rather than the burning desire and desperation he was feeling.

“Breathe.” She whispered, leaning forward and gently wrapping her fingers around his wrist and pulling his hand away. “Just breathe.”

He did. He breathed, in and out, slowly, as Feyre gently placed his hand on his thigh and pulled back. Then she turned to look at the laptop, lifting her hips again and pulling her jeans down. The part of the shirt that had been tucked in was wrinkled and clinging to her stomach. But as soon as her jeans were pooled at her ankles, she tugged at the hem of the shirt. For a brief second, Rhys thought she would take it off. His breath caught in his throat, but Feyre just pulled it away from her body and let it fall around her in all its oversized glory.

He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved. Because if she had taken it off, he would have definitely lost it.

Briefly, she looked into his eyes, then down again. As if she was happy with what she saw, Feyre spread her legs as far as she could with the jeans still around her ankles and slipped a hand under her shirt and slid it up to cup one of her breasts. He watched, as she pulled it out her bra and the way her nipple strained against the white cotton made him groan.

A corner of her mouth tugged up even as she watched the screen. She pulled on her nipple and moaned.

Rhys realized then, why the woman in the background had sounded off. Because he had been hoping to hear this. This guttural, throaty sound that Feyre made. It was deeper, more obscene than the sound she made when she was angry, or eating something she loved. It made his dick twitch.

Yet despite everything Feyre was doing, it felt as though Rhys wasn’t about to fall off that razor sharp edge anymore. Not because he wasn’t turned on by Feyre’s show. But simply because she had told him to breathe, to wait. And for her, he would do anything.

Another tug at her nipple and a sharp gasp almost made him miss the other hand that slipped between her legs. He couldn’t see her underwear, the shirt so big and covering everything. But her took in her legs, her arms, her neck and then looked at her face. Only to find her eyes fixed on him.

She swallowed, the hand on her breast sliding down. “Aren’t you going to watch?”

He wasn’t sure if she meant the porn beside him or the way her fingers were moving between her legs.

“I’m trying.” He said. “But I can’t see.”

She smirked at him. “Do you want me to take it off?”

“God, yes.”

The answer slipped from him faster than he could think. Greedy and desperate and that smirk on her face only grew.

“You first.”

Rhys’ hands were pulling his shirt over his head so fast that he felt his hair get ruffled by it. He didn’t care, he threw the shirt away from him.

Feyre moved slower than him, lifting the shirt almost tantalizingly slow until finally it was off and Rhys could look at her.

His eyes fixed on her collarbones first, thinking of how he had marked them in his fantasy. Rhys wondered if he would ever be able to do it in real life. But then his eyes moved lower, to her breasts, covered in a soft beige bralette that was almost the same colour as her skin. He could make out her pink nipples beneath, straining against the lace. He wanted to mouth at the fabric until she was arching her back and begging for more.

Her hand moving downwards was what made him look down. She slipped it right into the black cotton panties she was wearing and let out a soft gasp.

“Are we even now?” She asked and he watched as she used two fingers to slide the underwear to the side, while one rubbed at her clit.

It took his mind a few seconds to register her words. Disappointment filled his heart at the thought that she had only stayed to get them on even footing. That because she had seen him jerking off, she would let him watch. His throat closed up. It was the first time since Friday night that the thought of Feyre didn’t make him burn up with want.

“But I guess, you would have to touch me for us to be truly even.” She added, her voice husky and two fingers pressing into her clit and rubbing slowly. Her breathing hitched.

Rhys just looked and looked and looked. He wanted to touch her more than he had ever wanted anything. But now that she was here and offering herself to him, Rhys realized that more than touching her, he wanted for her to _want_ his touch. To burn for him like he burned for her.

He didn’t want her to let him touch her only to even things out. He didn’t want to touch her if she didn’t want him to.

Feyre’s eyes opened, finding his. Her voice was low, when she asked, “Don’t you want to touch me, Rhys?”

“Do you?” He asked, finding his voice stronger than before.

Her eyes flicked not down his body, but all over his face. Those blue-grey eyes, that had haunted his dreams for six months, traced his features and Rhys thought it was longing that shined in them.

“Yes.” She breathed. “Yes, Rhys, I want you to touch me. I want to touch you. I want-” She moaned, the muscles in her arm straining as she pushed harder. “I want you. I’m so-”

He didn’t think, but he knew he couldn’t hear her apologize to him again. Because he knew her, maybe better than he knew himself and she wasn’t lying. And he didn’t know how or why, but her words and the desperate tone she had used… It had sounded that perhaps she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

His chair creaked as he rose from where he sat and then he was leaning down, his hands tangling in her hair, pulling gently and then she was looking up at him, breathing ragged, cheeks flushed and her pupils blown impossibly wide.

Rhys kissed her.

Despite the torrent in his heart, despite him feeling it mirrored in her own, their kiss was gentle. Even as both of them were half naked and turned on and dying to touch the other, their kiss was slow and deep and the best kiss of Rhys’ life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know if you liked this.
> 
> I haven't finished this fic yet, I haven't actually even finished the next chapter so I'm going to update a few of my other fics in the coming days before coming back to this one.
> 
> can I get some guesses on how long it will take util we get to the actual 69ing that this fic was supposed to be about? lmao, i apologize for going absolutely overboard and turning this into a monster.
> 
> i love you all for joining me in my madness <3

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed that. comments, kudos, etc. are appreciated.


End file.
